to guitar or not to guitar

To guitar or not to guitar, that is the question.

If you have known me for thirty years or more, then you know that I used to play guitar back in the day. I had a fabulous Gibson SG-I, with a perfect fret board and the easiest action you could ask for while playing.

I played in a little Christian rock band very briefly, led by Bill Lee (I wonder if he's still around), and I've forgotten the name of the band. We were actually pretty good - each of us had written a song or two, and this particular one that I wrote had a "heavy" sound, and used the lyrics from a hymn out of the Baptist Hymnal.

This was in 1971 or so, and there was no such thing as a Contemporary Christian bin at the record store, and in fact, most churchy types considered rock music to be of the devil, and to be shunned at all cost. Annie Herring wasn't recording yet, and it would be another few years before we would hear Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music, by Larry Norman. So this was a cutting edge thing to do. I'm not saying we were the first, but I am saying that we were blazing our own trail through the Christian music wilderness.

What happened was that I was singing with a church sponsored youth group at Eden Hills Baptist Church, and we quite innocently had included in our repertoire a popular selection from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar - which was admittedly not even close to being doctrinally correct, though we hadn't really considered that. We were doing popular songs modified to be sort of Christian in nature - for example, I'm a Believer, the Monkees' hit, with a few altered lyrics.

We got invited to some little Assembly of God church which was doing some Sunday afternoon festival, and they wanted us to represent what the youth of today was doing musically. We sang I Don't Know How to Love Him, and one of the southern gospel groups walked out. Walked out! To their credit, they refrained from holding up crosses and trying to cast out our demons, but it was pretty darn rude when you consider that we were invited, paid our own way there, and we were kids for crying out loud. Well, practically kids.

Actually, all but one of them walked out - Bill Lee stayed in, and he apologized for the rest of his group. And later, before their group split up (Bill Lee quit or was fired, who knows), I dropped by one of their rehearsals. There they were, the group who had indignantly walked out on us for singing unapproved music, drinking beer and telling dirty jokes and using profanity like it was the king's English. Except Bill, who spoke softly and could have been in church. My opinion of the gospel music industry was dropping like a rock.

After their group fell apart, Bill thought it would be interesting to form a new group with some of us - me on guitar or bass, and some other people we knew - playing a mix of rock and gospel. Sure, why not? So we formed that little group. A strange thing happened. We were catching on. Churches allowed us to play in their fellowship halls (not the sanctuary, that would have been blasphemy), and we got invited to many youth functions. During one of these functions, a lady asked us if we would be willing to travel to another town. She thought we were pretty good, and if we wanted her to do it, she could arrange for us to play at the high school auditorium in Bellevue, to the southeast of our hometown, Wichita Falls. She would take care of the promotion, the ticket sales, everything. Well... sure, why not?

So we packed up our amplifiers and drove to Bellevue, and set up on the small stage there. On the other side of the curtain was a packed auditorium, probably holding a couple of hundred people. One thing was odd, though - I was expecting to see high school kids, and most of these people were adults. Well, not to worry, they were probably family types.

We opened with the song I had written, because it established so well that we were playing Christian rock. I played bass on that one, because the song depended on a heavy rock line, and I had written it. Only fair.

By the time we finished the song, the auditorium was empty. Well, not empty, there were four or five kids in the front row screaming for more. They were the only ones that hadn't been accompanied by their parents. The other kids had been dragged indignantly from the place by their gospel music loving parents. The promotion had been done, yes, but the posters had all said "gospel music" - the nice lady hadn't known what else to call what it was that we did.

That made twice we had been walked out on by gospel music fans.

After that, I had the blessing and privilege to find a small church that was actually into praise and worship, without all the nonsense. A group formed, named Peniel, and I found myself playing my Gibson SG-I, and we actually played Christian music without caring at all if we ever became popular or successful - we just sang and played and worshiped and it was the best time of my life.

Many of us were Air Force, and so what with transfers and such we parted ways. Many of us are still in touch via the internet, and we are still close friends. No, not just friends, brothers.

I began to lose interest in playing the guitar, and I sold the SG-I, or rather traded it in on a new acoustic guitar that was just coming into use: the Ovation. I still have it (model 1111-4). It's a little harder to play than the SG, because the first fret is kind of hard to get all the way down, as is the case with most acoustics, so an F chord is a bear. And a chord that requires more than three frets is impossible for me - I broke a finger at Amsco steel when I was helping to change a die on the brake press, and it never healed right. So my third finger is so weak that I have to use my fourth finger to make a "down" chord, the sort of bar chorded A. That works OK until I need an A7 or the equivalent, and then I'm in trouble.

And anyway, I'm way way out of practice. I barely remember how to play now.

So up the highway from us is this place that sells guitars and gives lessons. And I'm thinking about trading in my Ovation, which has increased in value and is in near-mint condition, for a new electric guitar and small amplifier. I have heard that they make guitars in 3/4 scale, so I could reach that third fret without stretching too hard. And at least one Ovation of that model has sold for $3000... though it may have been a special edition or something. I find it hard to believe that my little $250 guitar from 1974 could be that prized. On the other hand, if you adjust for inflation... who knows?

That and... and... taking lessons. Actual lessons. I never took lessons in my life. For all I know, I learned it all wrong. And I have the time to practice now, being retired and old and useless.

What should I do?

toast

I made toast this morning and there was a longhorn image burned onto the toast.
It's a miracle.
I shall now put it on eBay and sell it for a thousand dollars.

Random discoveries

1) After watching our Woodstock DVD last night, I was reminded of the incredibly ignorant words coming from the stage microphones between sets. The stupidest was when somebody was pointing out the army helicopters which were landing nearby to deploy a medical team to care for those among the half million attending who had gotten sick, or overdosed, or injured somehow. "They're with us this time, man, they're with us!" As if the United States Army had ever been against them. Sure, some officers were likely to make snide comments about hippies in those days, but nobody in an army helicopter would have been deployed against American citizens just because of hair style or choice of music.
There were other stupid comments about how well this was all working - and it is true that it was amazing that that many people could sit together for three days without anyone attacking another or committing violent crimes. But it was also true that the only reason they had water to drink or food to eat was that emergency services were coming to their rescue, bringing food and help in response to what was, in truth, a disaster area.
I was also astounded by the utter lack of talent or skill on the part of Canned Heat. Listen to that guitar solo, and compare it to performances by Ten Years After, The Who, Jimi Hendrix or Carlos Santana. It's like comparing a little kid playing chopsticks on the piano to the guy in Legend of 1900.
Tickets were $18 in advance for all three days, which is $75 in today's money.
They told the local authorities they expected no more than 50,000 people attending the event.
There were two deaths during the festival: one was a heroin overdose, the other was a guy in a sleeping bag who got run over by a tractor.
Also, the bass player for Jefferson Airplane was one ugly dude.

2) Pringles' Onion Blossom Chips are awesome, assuming you like Onion Blossoms or their many imitators. They taste so much like the onion blossoms that you have to eat a couple, maybe three, before you can get past the shock.

3) Many people who you think are for Obama are not. Many who still are, are going to be very very disappointed in the next four years. He isn't going to be as good as they expect, because he can't really do the things they think he promised to do. And he isn't going to be quite as bad as his detractors expect - unless he turns out to really be the anti-christ, in which case he will be worse instead. This was an election year, and hyperbole was at its usual level for such a time. But you never know.

Hammer and Sickle

That's the communist flag being waved in celebration of our president-elect, there.